


The Fight

by Arieava



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam's dad is a dick, Canon Rewrite, Gen, POV Ronan, Physical Abuse, Ronan is protective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arieava/pseuds/Arieava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He watched Adam get out of the car with a feeling of sickening dread, and then started the car and began to pull away. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of the small, defenseless-seeming figure cautiously making its way to the front door, where Adam’s father stood, his shadow looming ominously over the dead, brown grass of the yard and his son. He tried to look away, because Adam wanted him to leave, so that he wouldn’t have to see him in his shame and brokenness and pain. But he couldn’t drive away, couldn’t leave Adam like this, so he stayed, the engine of his BMW growling in the quiet Henrietta evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fight

**Author's Note:**

> 100 points to me for a super creative title.
> 
> I was reading this scene the other day on the bus and I just got major Adam and Ronan feels, so I started rewriting it from Ronan's POV...and then I basically repeated it over and over in my head until I could get home and write it out. I guess this is my way of processing the fact that the series is actually over? Hahaha *violently in denial*
> 
> (If anyone's interested, the actual scene is on page 336 of The Raven Boys.)

“The buck stops here,” Ronan said, parking in front of Adam’s house. “Home shit home.”

Adam, next to him, reached into the backseat and grabbed his messenger bag. “Thanks for the ride.”

Up at the house, they could see two shadows standing at the window, watching them. Ronan, looking at Adam (the light from the double-wide cast shadows across his face, outlining his features, defining the elegant curves of his cheekbones and _shit_ , no, he was _not_ thinking about this, not now), saw his fingers clench around the fabric, and felt a sudden, familiar burst of anger. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, but still he said, “Man, you don’t have to get out here.”

Adam didn’t bother responding, because both of them knew the old, tired arguments they would use, and it was too late for that anyway, because his parents had seen them, and Adam’s pride wouldn’t let him run away. Looking at Ronan, he said, “Don’t you have homework to do?”

Ronan smirked. “Yes, Parrish. I believe I do.”

Adam still hadn’t gotten out, and Ronan felt an urge to keep him here, where he was safe, safe from his bastard father and his uncaring mother, and where Ronan could just look at him, without watchful, judgemental eyes observing from the window. But it was late, and Adam wanted Blue, and everything was shitty, and it was no use anyway. In an effort to make him laugh, or at least smile, he said, “Do you think they’ll arrest Whelk before class tomorrow? Because if they do, I’m not doing the reading.”

Adam replied, “If he shows up for class, I think that the reading will be the least of his concerns.”

And then Ronan thought again about how close he’d come to losing Gansey, how close Gansey had been to simply not _being_ anymore, out of this plane of existence, forever. It seemed unthinkable, a world without Gansey. How could anything possibly function without him there to question it, with his grin and his ridiculous boat shoes and his unceasing faith in the unknown?

After a pause, Ronan said, “I better go feed the bird.”

His mind was still on Gansey, though, and he stared down, going over the day’s events in his head. Impulsively, because he needed to let it out before he fucking exploded, he said, “I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if Whelk had shot Gansey today.”

He glanced at Adam as he said it, feeling strangely vulnerable, as if this admittance that he, too, had human feelings had stripped away all of his defenses. Gansey had a way of doing that, of seeing straight through his armor of sarcastic smiles and threatening looks, and even the mention of him seemed to have the same effect. He saw Adam’s eyes darken as he visibly kept himself from thinking about it, and realized that Adam would be just as lost as him without Gansey. It was a strange thought.

“But he didn’t,” Adam replied, and Ronan steadied himself, because that was what was important, of course, that Gansey was still alive, and breathing, and annoying as hell, but alive and planning and discovering and thinking and wondering and _alive_. What _might_ have happened was not important. “Yeah,” Ronan said.

“Lucky you taught him that right hook.”

“I never taught him to break his thumb,” Ronan replied sardonically.

“That’s Gansey for you,” Adam said, smiling a little. “Only learns enough to be superficially competent.”

Ronan smirked. “Loser.”

They were smiling at each other, and then Ronan remembered why they were there, and the grim silhouettes in the window, still watching them, waiting, judging, and he saw Adam bracing himself to get out of the car, as if he was preparing for a blow. Which was probably what he was actually doing, because they both knew the terrible moods of Robert Parrish at this hour of the night, Adam far too well.

“See you tomorrow,” said Adam, though he knew very well that he might not. “Thanks again.”

Ronan knew he should respond, he should say something sarcastic or funny or even comforting, anything to take Adam’s mind off of what, in his mind, had to happen, but it was late, and he was sick of it all, and he wanted to hit something. He wanted to start the car and drive off and take Adam far, far away from that hellhole, maybe to Monmouth, or maybe just _away_. But Adam would never allow it, he knew, so he tried to push away his frustration, replying, “No problem, man. See you tomorrow.” 

He watched Adam get out of the car with a feeling of sickening dread, and then started the car and began to pull away. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of the small, defenseless-seeming figure cautiously making its way to the front door, where Adam’s father stood, his shadow looming ominously over the dead, brown grass of the yard and his son. He tried to look away, because Adam wanted him to leave, so that he wouldn’t have to see him in his shame and brokenness and pain. But he couldn’t drive away, couldn’t leave Adam like this, so he stayed, the engine of his BMW growling in the quiet Henrietta evening.

He could see them talking, though he could barely hear the words; could see the anger on his father’s face, the barely hidden fear on Adam’s. All of a sudden Adam’s father grabbed his collar, pulling him close to his threatening face. Adam was stuttering, his face scared and desperate as he tried to talk some reason into his father, but Ronan knew it was no use, saw the blow coming before it crashed into Adam’s face.

Adam stumbled backward, his foot just missing the edge of the stair, and then he was falling, falling as if he were in slow motion, crashing to the ground in front of his house, hard. He wasn’t moving.

Fury exploded inside Ronan’s head, and his knuckles gripping the steering wheel were white as he forcibly restrained himself from leaping from the car and beating the crap out of this bastard, this man watching his own _son_ lie in the dirt, knowing that he was the one who put him there, with a look of anger and disgust on his face. He would have given anything, _anything_ , to heap all of his own anger and frustration and hate on this man who had made Adam’s life a living hell. But Adam would never forgive him if he interceded on his behalf, because he was so proud in his brokenness, and kindness would only be seen as pitious charity. But what Ronan was feeling was nowhere near pity; it was _rage_ , rage at seeing Adam brought low by the man who had raised him, and at seeing his mother watching impassively from the window, and he knew that he needed to go, to leave, that Adam didn’t want him here, that his presence would only enrage the man further, but he was physically incapable of moving, he could only sit here and watch in his weakness and indecisiveness and _why wasn’t Adam moving_ \--

And then he did, slowly, painfully, his movements unbalanced and filled with agony. Ronan breathed a small sigh of relief, but something was wrong--he wasn’t getting up, he was on his hands and knees in the middle of the yard, and his father was yelling at him again, a few words carrying over the dead sea of grass: “...not going to stop...threw yourself on the ground...know when you’re faking, Adam…”. But Adam clearly wasn’t faking; he was hunched over, pain evident in every line of his body, unstable, trying to make himself a smaller target for his father looming over him. Seeing him there, so helpless and desperate and lonely, was the final straw; he had tried so hard not to interfere, to drive away, to leave Adam to deal with his abusive father because _that was what he wanted_ , but fuck it, he was _not_ going to sit there and do nothing while his friend was being physically and mentally battered, he didn’t care if Adam hated him, he would hate himself more if he let this happen, because _this was Adam_ , and in a flash he was halfway to the house with no memory of getting out of the car, his mind a white blaze of fury, his only thought to _make him pay_. Adam’s father had a hold on his collar again, was yelling in his ear, while Adam, looking fractured and disoriented, was gasping for breath and answers to his father’s irrational questions, stumbling, staggering, _afraid_. 

“ _Do not ignore me_ ,” Adam’s father shouted at him, then suddenly turned his face toward Ronan, sensing the intruder, the variable in an otherwise familiar scenario. “What do _you_ want?”

“To do this,” Ronan snarled, and smashed his fist into the side of Robert Parrish’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic, so if you liked it, please leave a comment or something to share the warm fuzzies. :)


End file.
